


Ghosting - IwaOi

by Myka_Saen



Category: haikyuu
Genre: Based on a Mother Mother Song, Dead People, GhostAU, M/M, Song: Ghosting (Mother Mother), dead!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 11:07:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30088167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myka_Saen/pseuds/Myka_Saen
Summary: It’s been over six months since that morning, and Tooru can’t see him like that anymore. He knows he shouldn’t, he knows it’s not right, he knows it could make things worse. But he just wants Hajime to forget about him.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime & Oikawa Tooru
Kudos: 1





	Ghosting - IwaOi

Hajime had always had the habit of embracing the pillow to fall asleep. His therapist said it was probably a mild childhood trauma, and certainly the patient knew that after _that event_ he would only get worse.

Tooru had known for a long time, Hajime had taken it out on him right after the session, at least four or five years earlier.

"What a stupid idea!"

Hajime said, after he invited himself to Tooru’s house and threw himself on the bed next to him:

"Childlike trauma? Oh, come on! I don’t have trauma, I’m fine!"

Of course he lied, both to himself and to Tooru, but the continued verbal abuse by his father was well known to the entire volleyball team, but Hajime did not like to talk about it.

"As if the fact that I sleep in a certain way could mean something."

At the time, Tooru also laughed, along with him.

But now, seeing Hajime hugged by that pillow that was his, Tooru realized how right the therapist was.

Hajime was wearing adidas pants, high school sweatshirt, and one sock. Judging by the state of the bedroom, it must have been a while since the last shower, and maybe even since the last exit: there were clothes scattered on the floor, judging by the wet halos on the shirts there must also be a smell of sweat everywhere, And all over the floor was some half-full Monster cans.

He was sick, anyone would know it.

Tooru held his heart, perhaps he should not have been there: but the temptation had been too strong. He never missed a Hajime’s birthday, and he always hoped it would never happen. But he wanted to be there, he wanted to be one of those messages that lit up Hajime’s phone, resting on his nightstand, for at least ten minutes after midnight. 

Or maybe be there in the bed with him, maybe instead of the pillow itself.

He approached Hajime’s bed, slowly, careful not to make any noise. Not that he was able to make any, anyway.

He laid his hand on the bed, but even after leaning it he could not feel the cotton of the sheet on his skin. It hurt to realize he got used to that feeling of _nothing_. He stepped forward on all fours, and as he came to be parallel to Hajime’s face with his own, he lay down beside him.

Hajime’s breath was regular, almost imperceptible. His relaxed face was the most beautiful Tooru had ever seen: not that it was the first time, but it had been so long since the last..

"Hey, Iwachan, happy birthday..."

He whispered, well aware that Hajime could not hear him anyway, and extended his hand to his face, touching his cheekbones with his fingers.

How he wanted to feel the roughness of his skin, the dampness of his tears, the warmth of his breath on his fingertips.

"I miss you so much, you know?"

He continued, and in realizing that he was unable to cry, he even more cried.

"I wish I could be here with you..."

When he did to put his palm on his cheek, Hajime sneezed, frightened him and forced him to withdraw his hand: was he waking up? Hajime yawned and stretched, then turned the other way without much ceremony.

"I shouldn’t bother you, you’re right, not when you finally fell asleep..."

His breath returned to normal.

Tooru sat down and sighed heavily: maybe it was not a good idea to show up there. He stopped looking at Hajime, got out of bed.

From the open window before a light breeze came, but now it seemed to have become a real breeze, strong enough to let the stack of books stacked on the desk go on the floor, triggering an inhuman noise.

Hajime jumped, and so did Tooru, although no one could have noticed her except himself.

Hajime turned his head towards the source of the noise, his gaze passed Tooru without hesitation. His eyes, although half-closed and clearly sleepy, were exactly as Tooru remembered them, and it was a suffering when Hajime closed them to sleep again.

After all, the tiredness was so great and the alarm clock was set at three in the morning, so Hajime returned to the previous position, again embraced the pillow.

How much he would have wanted, Tooru, for Hajime to forget all about him. How he wanted to change his last words, tell him to move on with his life and forget about him instead of just saying that selfish "I love you".

Tooru clenched his fists, and looked at the pile of books, notebooks and leaflets now scattered on the ground: perhaps it was time to make amends.

He had not yet tried, since the first time he had appeared on earth a month earlier, to pick up a pen: but it was time to try.

There was one in the pen holder, along with pencils, markers and scissors, and to his delight he was able to hold it between his fingers. After all, if he was able to lie on the bed, he would have to be able to grab a pen. He felt on the ground, looking for a blank sheet of paper between all those calculations and patterns, and finally he found it.

Overcome with euphoria and even anxiety, he went to sit by the bed, where the moonlight was bright enough for him to write.

_Dear Iwa-ch_

He began, but immediately thought about it: "dear Iwa-chan" gave him an impression of immense detachment.

_Hajime_

Better, a lot better. 

_Whether I’ve loved you more or less forever, I think it can be understood by anyone. You figured it out before I did, and let me tell you, you’ve never been more brilliant at this sort of thing.  
But I love you for it, too.  
If I had to actually write down the things that made me fall in love, I don’t think I’d ever end up.  
I definitely fell in love a little at a time, at first, and then all at once, so much so that I can’t even tell you when the almost fraternal affection I felt for you started to turn into love. I don’t know, and frankly, I never cared._

Tooru heard a grunt, turned suddenly and realized that Hajime had begun to snore. He bent his head, a smile escaped him.

_When it came to you, I didn’t care about the future. I wanted to see you smile, laugh, I wanted to kiss you, hug you, have you and be you. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you._

Tooru had to stop for a moment: he felt just like that day, like that day when he discovered him. Like that October 31 where he was diagnosed with knee osteosarcoma.

_And that’s why I decided to get these old white papers out of my head. Don’t worry, I know how much you hate my bad handwriting, but this time I’ll leave them neat and clean.I want you to know that I’m not hiding, I wasn’t avoiding you and I never wanted to do that.  
I wandered, wandered like a ghost (and it hurts to write it, because it seems to me that by writing it has been realized). Now I’m nothing but a ghost in the world, a ghost without a home, but I was too at the time. I became one after I discovered my 50% chance of living.  
I remember that day, those days when I made you so desperate, for me... that’s why I left your house. You didn’t need a spirit as a companion, and we didn’t need useless and false pacts, and we never should have fooled ourselves.  
We didn’t need Halloween, we told ourselves. But now you don’t know how much I would give for another Halloween with you._

If Tooru had been alive, he would have cried loudly. He didn’t know if he could finish writing.

_I thought you didn’t need me.  
I thought it would be a problem if I stayed with you, but maybe if I didn’t get out of the hospital that night, maybe I could actually see you. I should have waited for you at the hospital.  
But I was afraid I didn’t have enough time.  
And now I’m just a ghost out of her grave, I won’t see your hair turn white, I won’t be the irritating reason you wake up in the morning, I won’t be there.   
The last time I saw you, I just told you I love you.  
It was true of course, and nothing has changed from that point of view.  
But I can’t see you like this, I feel like I’m dying a second time to see what my death has done to you. Please try to forget me.  
Go on with your life, fall in love again: let me go.  
You’re young, you live to the fullest, do it for me.  
Please, if you really love me, try to forget me, my love.  
Goodbye, Hajime_

_For ever yours,  
Tooru_

Tooru laid the paper on the bedside table, next to Hajime’s phone.  
He wouldn’t come back, he’d just hurt his soul more and Hajime himself. He didn’t even know if that letter was a good idea or not. But he needed it, and he hoped Hajime would understand it too.

Tooru tornò a guardare, che si era rigirato nel letto diverse volte durante la scrittura della lettera. Ora aveva il viso rivolto verso di lui, e questo avrebbe certamente reso più difficoltosa la sua partenza.

"Addio Hajime."

Sussurrò Tooru, prima di baciare dolcemente Hajime. Il contatto per Tooru non fu nulla, ma Hajime si risvegliò la mattina dopo con il corpo sudato e bollente ma le labbra gelide.

**Author's Note:**

> like my other FF, this shot was written in one breath. I admit I didn’t even look at it, but I’m okay with it, with all the plot holes and the crazy parts.  
> I wanted to dedicate a shot to "Ghosting", and I did: I’m satisfied with myself


End file.
